Why She Cries

The art of the word that lingers in your sole.
Sits on a pedestal and morns for the heart of the dead!
Look and stop to realize that all of the life
Is now a useless piece of junk?
Where does she go to find her peace of mind?
! HELL!
And she sits.
It burns at her heart for the end to be so close to her.
The rope is too big,
Her neck is too small
And she lives no more